God's Country has one of the best opening scenes at this year's Sundance. Flickering lights cut to black in a classroom as a projector begins to cycle through images of buffalos, steam trains, prospectors, fur traders and coal miners. America brought prosperity to many, while others moved to the country in search of it. But God's country only favoured the white man and continues to.
At the film's Sundance panel, writer Shaye Ogbonna explained that the film is a commentary on the idea of American exceptionalism: "I feel like sometimes, in the world — but specifically in this country — we sweep things under the rug," he said. "We try to misremember or forget things that go against American exceptionalism and things that specifically deal with the experiences of the marginalized people in this country."
In his feature debut, director Julian Higgins points his neo-Western lens at this reality through a protagonist whose mere existence proves dangerous.
Sandra (Thandiwe Newton) is the only person of colour in the room. As a professor, she works in a culture built by white men. She's belittled and sits in silence because she knows her white colleagues won't listen to her anyway. Despite the recent passing of her mother, she finds the reprieve she needs at her secluded canyon home with her dog. Surrounded by mountains and snow, it's peaceful; the only sound is the wind chimes. That stillness, however, is broken suddenly by the sound of a truck approaching. Parking on her property without her permission, the score ramps up with fearful apprehension. She confronts the men, two brothers named Nathan (Joris Jarsky) and Samuel (Jefferson White). They say it's a prime spot to park for hunting, but she tells them to get off her land. "I heard about you," one brother says. The film never expands on this comment, but it sounds threatening. Racial tensions and white male entitlement are things she's used to. She's also used to keeping her mouth shut, but she refuses to have them have any say or control of what's hers. Law enforcement is slim, with the acting sheriff having some kind of beef with the brothers, which complicates things. When she realizes she's alone, she decides to take matters into her own hands. People ask why she cares so much, and it's easy to say that she should just let it go, but most have never found her fight. Change doesn't happen with inaction, but she starts a war she may not be prepared for.
Despite being languidly paced, the filmmakers succeed at building tension. This has a lot to do with the writing of the film's characters, especially Sandra. She's a fighter, but even though her fights rarely go her way, she has a persistence that's engaging. Sandra is tired and angry, Thandiwe Newton embodying all of this with immense emotion. She gets those moments that allow her to show her skill as an actress, but the film is also sprinkled with some smaller, affecting moments that really resonate. Moments where she's hit with the loss of her mother as she goes about her day, and introspective conversations between her and Nathan that point out their similar upbringings while questioning what exactly leads them to take the paths they do.
The film tackles several things that make up Sandra's arc: systemic racism, lack of care towards people of colour by law enforcement, and especially the effects of Hurricane Katrina on African Americans. Sandra moved to rural Montana from New Orleans in the aftermath of the hurricane and the government's delayed response (and lack of preparation) in the relief effort.
The film includes scenes where water is leaking into what we can assume is Sandra's home. The effects of the hurricane are evident in this imagery, as photos float on the water. Many memories were lost and lives were destroyed. Many were unable to rebuild, so they moved away to start anew. Sandra's mother was one of those left stranded, and Sandra feels guilt for not having protected her.
"We have to fight back all the time, every time, or this will go on forever," says Sandra. She has lost everything that matters, so she must protect all she has left from the white man who takes and takes and takes. God's Country, through Sandra's anger, is like dynamite — a fire travelling along a fuse in seconds that feel like a lifetime, until it ignites in an explosive gut punch.
(Cold Iron Pictures)At the film's Sundance panel, writer Shaye Ogbonna explained that the film is a commentary on the idea of American exceptionalism: "I feel like sometimes, in the world — but specifically in this country — we sweep things under the rug," he said. "We try to misremember or forget things that go against American exceptionalism and things that specifically deal with the experiences of the marginalized people in this country."
In his feature debut, director Julian Higgins points his neo-Western lens at this reality through a protagonist whose mere existence proves dangerous.
Sandra (Thandiwe Newton) is the only person of colour in the room. As a professor, she works in a culture built by white men. She's belittled and sits in silence because she knows her white colleagues won't listen to her anyway. Despite the recent passing of her mother, she finds the reprieve she needs at her secluded canyon home with her dog. Surrounded by mountains and snow, it's peaceful; the only sound is the wind chimes. That stillness, however, is broken suddenly by the sound of a truck approaching. Parking on her property without her permission, the score ramps up with fearful apprehension. She confronts the men, two brothers named Nathan (Joris Jarsky) and Samuel (Jefferson White). They say it's a prime spot to park for hunting, but she tells them to get off her land. "I heard about you," one brother says. The film never expands on this comment, but it sounds threatening. Racial tensions and white male entitlement are things she's used to. She's also used to keeping her mouth shut, but she refuses to have them have any say or control of what's hers. Law enforcement is slim, with the acting sheriff having some kind of beef with the brothers, which complicates things. When she realizes she's alone, she decides to take matters into her own hands. People ask why she cares so much, and it's easy to say that she should just let it go, but most have never found her fight. Change doesn't happen with inaction, but she starts a war she may not be prepared for.
Despite being languidly paced, the filmmakers succeed at building tension. This has a lot to do with the writing of the film's characters, especially Sandra. She's a fighter, but even though her fights rarely go her way, she has a persistence that's engaging. Sandra is tired and angry, Thandiwe Newton embodying all of this with immense emotion. She gets those moments that allow her to show her skill as an actress, but the film is also sprinkled with some smaller, affecting moments that really resonate. Moments where she's hit with the loss of her mother as she goes about her day, and introspective conversations between her and Nathan that point out their similar upbringings while questioning what exactly leads them to take the paths they do.
The film tackles several things that make up Sandra's arc: systemic racism, lack of care towards people of colour by law enforcement, and especially the effects of Hurricane Katrina on African Americans. Sandra moved to rural Montana from New Orleans in the aftermath of the hurricane and the government's delayed response (and lack of preparation) in the relief effort.
The film includes scenes where water is leaking into what we can assume is Sandra's home. The effects of the hurricane are evident in this imagery, as photos float on the water. Many memories were lost and lives were destroyed. Many were unable to rebuild, so they moved away to start anew. Sandra's mother was one of those left stranded, and Sandra feels guilt for not having protected her.
"We have to fight back all the time, every time, or this will go on forever," says Sandra. She has lost everything that matters, so she must protect all she has left from the white man who takes and takes and takes. God's Country, through Sandra's anger, is like dynamite — a fire travelling along a fuse in seconds that feel like a lifetime, until it ignites in an explosive gut punch.
